Last Resort
by firefly81
Summary: Calling for the angel was her last resort.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

It all started with a spell. Didn't it always?

The war had been over for three years. They had won, and Voldemort and many of his Death Eaters had perished. Many in the Wizarding world considered this a victory for Light.

She did not.

Yes, Voldemort was no more. Yes, the large majority of his followers were either dead or rotting away in Azkaban. Yes, they 'won'.

But did they really?

Too many lives were lost. Too many innocent childhoods destroyed. The price of war was high.

And she was paying it. She started paying it the moment she walked into Hogwarts at the tender age of eleven. She considered her last payment the moment she watched Harry fall to Voldemort's wand. Needing time to grieve, she took off to a place where she thought it would be easy to hide, to blend in.

That was how she ended up in the United States. She had meant to only pass through, traveling about the country, before finally returning to Britain. Instead, here she was three years later with no intention of going home.

She had enjoyed her time touring the states, taking in new cultures. But something was missing. _Someone_ was missing.

Harry.

Gods, she missed him. She loved him so much she gave up everything for him; her parents, her schooling. She wished she could have given her life so that he could live his. But that was not what happened. Harry's death was her biggest regret.

She found the book store in Boston near Quincy Market, down a small street that reminded her more of an alley. It specialized in rare and old books, and she felt right at home the moment she stepped through the door. The floors were worn, bookshelves placed here and there. A shabby but comfortable looking chair graced one of the corners, lit by a bright floor lamp placed behind it. All in all, it was the perfect place for her. She booked a room in a nearby hotel and visited the store everyday for a week straight.

It was on the seventh day that she found the book.

The owner must have bought it from a client the night before, because she was sure it hadn't been in the store before that. It hummed with magic, which was odd since this was a purely Muggle store, nowhere near the Wizarding part of Boston. She felt drawn to it, and her magic felt... happy as she ran a finger down the leather spine. She did not even read the title before she snatched it up and brought it straight to the counter to pay for it.

When she entered her hotel room she went straight for the desk. Sitting down, she placed the book in front of her and (after running some detection spells over it) gingerly opened it. It was written completely in Latin, but luckily that did not pose a problem for her. She gasped when she realized what the book was.

A book on how to summon demons and angels. Not just that, but also how to keep them away or vanquish them forever.

Elated, she realized this book was exactly what she needed. She could summon an angel and talk to them about Harry. Hopefully, she could find out if he was okay, if he was happy. A huge grin crossed her face, the first one in a very long time, as she began to plan.

With no access to a large enough place to complete the ritual, she decided to find some out of the way wooded area. She rented a car and headed west out of the city. It took about two hours, but she found a place that looked perfect. Pulling off the road, she picked up her bag and began to make her way into the forest. She walked quite far, wanting to make sure no one would see her, even though she planned on putting up wards.

With a deep sigh, she surveyed her work. Consulting the book one last time, she decided it looked perfect and began the chant.

 _Quacumque_ _die invocavero te, ecce angelus Domini, gere curam mei opportuno. Benedictus_.

Nothing happened.

A disappointed sigh escaped her lips. She really should have known better than to get her hopes up that this would work. Feeling defeated, she started to gather her things when she heard a rustle of wings and felt a breeze behind her. She whirled around, only to be faced with two men. One was wearing a trench-coat, and she could see his wings. The other, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans, had no wings so he clearly was no angel.

The man smirked at her, and her heart lurched as she was instantly reminded of Sirius. She turned her attention back to the rather oddly dressed angel.

"Thank you for answering my call, angel."

"You can see his wings?" the man asked, sounding outraged.

"Of course I can. Can't you?"

"No, of course I can't," he said, mimicking her British accent. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at him.

"I know why you called me here, Hermione. I cannot do what your heart truly desires."

"Please... please, I'll do anything," she managed to choke out, trying with everything she had to keep from crying.

"Nothing can bring back the dead, not even an angel. But you knew that when you called me, didn't you?"

She had. She had known that.

"I apologize for wasting your time. I just... I had to try."

The angel was staring at her, a shrewd and calculating look at his face. It almost looked as if he was listening to something the rest of them could not hear.

"You have suffered greatly, lost so much. But if it wasn't for you, the war would have been lost, the world plunged into darkness."

"The war was lost for me. My world _is_ in darkness."

"Harry is happy. He's with his parents, with Sirius and Remus. Such odd names you people have. He told me to tell you to stop grieving for him, that he wants you to live your life. You could have such a good one once you let you. He loves you, Hermione. He hates seeing you like this."

The tears that she had been trying so hard to keep in check broke through at his words. Angrily swiping at them, she caught the eye of the man who seemed to be looking at her with understanding. Obviously something happened to him if he was traveling with an angel.

"I'm so lost. I have no home, no family, no real job besides picking up odd ones here and there. What am I supposed to do now?"

"You could come with us."

"Cas!" the man shouted at the angel, sounding both surprised and angry at the suggestion.

"Quiet, Dean. This is why I brought you with me. She needs a purpose, and we have one to give her."

"Cas, we don't even know her."

The angel turned his unchanging stare towards her.

"I know her soul."

He approached her then, and she had to force herself not to flinch away as he brought his hand up to her face. Touching her cheek, he trailed a finger lightly down it. She was overcome with a feeling of peace, and she could not remember the last time she had felt that.

"Let us go now. We have things to do."

* * *

Translation of the chant: I call upon thee, angel of the lord, help me in my time of need. Blessed be.

Thanks to Jordi for looking this over for me.

Written for Round 12 of the Quidditch League FanFiction Competition. Go Wanderers!  
Prompt: Write a crossover with a TV show. I picked Supernatural.


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